Wednesday, February 07, 2007

Don't Worry Be Happy

Do you worry? I tend to worry a lot. Sometimes justifiably, sometimes not. Today I've decided to list a few things I've been worrying about lately.

Car accidents -- I hit a deer last Friday, so does that make this one justified?

Older Son -- He's showing no concerns about getting into college.

I think I'm addicted to Aleve -- Really. I've looked online and there's nothing written about addictions/dependencies, but I can't live without it. I've tried stopping and I'm in so much pain I can't stand it. Which leads to..

My knees -- the surgery was an unmitigated failure.

My job -- I think I'm going to be fired -- but I've felt that way all along. I'm worried about dozens of things at work, and about the possibility of finding a new job.

Younger Son is still not doing his homework -- I keep telling myself OS was the same at the same age, and he snapped out of it. But then again, see #2 above.

My dad. He's 85, his health isn't great.

Now that I've gotten all of that off my chest I have to say I don't feel any better. I've got to think about something else so I can get some sleep.

In knitting, I'm still plugging away at the Ugly Fairisle Glove. I got 2 (TWO!) whole rounds knit today during my commute (almost 2 hours). I'm hoping the pace picks up a bit as we go along. Still undecided about what's next. I've got some Noro waiting in the wings. I want to make a cardi out of it. Along the lines of the Plain, Regular Blue (Not Really) sweater I made for the Younger Celting's last b-day. I'm planning vertical panels, starting my balls at different spots. (Kinda like Rosedale but smaller panels and more regular.)


Anonymous said...

I know the feeling. I have had a lot too much on my plate lately. Try to relax. Things will take care of themselves, when they are meant to.

Jean said...

God, Laurie, who would be middle-aged? Just wait until you're old, and have nothing to worry about but death because your children (still) don't tell you anything about what's happening to them or to your grandchildren, except in well-sanitised gobbets.